Do Not Call Me M'Lord
by highwaytothe7hells
Summary: One day, he's an orphan. The other, he's the son of a king. From being a smith's apprentice to becoming the heir to the Seven Kingdoms, only the Seven know what lies in between, especially when a certain little lady proves to be a huge pain in the arse... - AU in which Robert survives the boar, learns about Cersei's treason and asks Ned to bring Gendry to him.
1. Prologue

**So, here's a new story from me. I don't really know where this is going, but I will try to keep it light and funny, so don't expect any major drama, twists or complicated plots... I just can't bring myself to write anything complicated when it comes to those two. (I leave it to GRRM and to the fic writers who master this skill :P)**

**So here goes the prologue, which is the only chapter that is not a Gendry or Arya POV. Hope you enjoy it! :)**

**P.S.: Rated T for now. May change in the future.**

* * *

"Your Grace, we need..."

"How many times must I tell you not to call me 'Your Grace', Ned? Seven hells!"

"Right, right… As I was saying, we need to sort this out."

"Yes, we need. And I know exactly what I'm going to do."

Robert Baratheon was recovering slowly from the wound caused by the boar. It hadn't been as severe as everyone had thought initially – and certainly it hadn't been mortal as Cersei Lannister expected it to be.

Cersei's plans had backfired when Robert survived, and after learning about her treason and that Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen weren't his children, he had made sure to humiliate Cersei and Jaime publicly before banning them, along with the rest of the Lannisters, from the Seven Kingdoms. He could very well have them beheaded, but Ned had convinced him against it.

"Are you going to wed again?" asked Ned.

"Probably, but that's not my immediate concern. I need an heir, Ned, and I need one _now –_ a _grown-up_ heir. And from what you've already told me, you know exactly where to find me one."

"You're talking about…"

"Yeah, yeah, the eldest of my male bastards. What's his name again? Geddy? Gary?"

Ned cleared his throat.

"It's _Gendry_."

"Yeah, whatever. You said he's a smith, right?"

"Right."

Robert's expression was serious.

"Bring him to me, Ned. I'll acknowledge him and legitimize him, and you will take care of his education. If he likes being a smith, he can keep with it, but make sure he will learn his letters and everything he needs to know to succeed me someday. And do it quickly, I may not be so lucky next time," he said, throwing a glance at his half-healed wound.

"I will."

Ned did as he was told right away. He managed to get to Tobho Mott's forge rather quickly.

He found Gendry at the door, receiving coin from a client, probably the payment for some work. When he noticed Ned, he bowed to him.

"M'lord," he said, keeping his eyes to the ground.

"You need to stop that."

"Stop what, m'lord?"

"Not looking people in the eye. Not keeping your head high."

Gendry did look him in the eye now, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not supposed to…"

"Forget everything you're not supposed to do, boy. You're coming with me."

"What? I did something wrong?"

"Lord Stark, is he in trouble?" asked Mott, approaching them.

"No, he's not in trouble," Ned said, fighting back a chuckle. "I would like to thank you for taking care of Gendry for all these years. He's coming with me now."

"Where?" Gendry asked.

"Don't question the Hand! Do as you're told! I apologize for that, mylord. If you need anything else from me, I'll be at your service."

"Thank you, Mott, I don't need anything for now. Gendry, go get your things. Your father awaits you."

"My father?" he asked incredulously.

"It's a long story…"

"Hurry, boy! Don't make the Hand wait!"

With that, Gendry disappeared into the forge, probably into his room or wherever he kept his belongings.

"I apologize again, Lord Stark, Gendry is a good boy, but he can be quite stubborn."

Ned chuckled.

"That's not surprising. His father can be very stubborn too."

From Mott's face, Ned was sure he was going to ask who Gendry's father was, but then Gendry was back, ready to leave.

"I'm… I'm ready," he said, staring at the ground again.

"What did I tell you about keeping your head high?"

Gendry looked at Tobho Mott and then at Ned again, and raised his head.

"There. That's how you should look at people from now on. The king's son is not supposed to keep looking at the ground."

Gendry's eyes widened and Mott's jaw dropped to the floor.

A very amused Ned and a very astonished Gendry quickly said their goodbyes to an equally astonished Tobho Mott, before heading to the Red Keep.


	2. Supper

**First of all, I'd like to thank you all for the reviews and follows and favs! You guys rock! :D **

**Also, before going on, I'd like to establish their ages here. I decided to match Arya's age with Maisie's in Season 1, which is 13. I won't consider Joe's age for Gendry though, because I'm keeping the five-year difference between him and Arya, so he's 18 here. But, of course, this is only in the first chapters; they will age up as time goes by. :)**

* * *

Gendry was trembling.

_Stay cool, stay cool, stay cool…_

He breathed in and out, inhaled and exhaled, but there was no use. He was extremely nervous. He had never been so nervous in his entire life, and there was nothing he could do to calm his tits. It was only supper, he tried to convince himself, but it wasn't. It was supper with the _King_, with the _Hand of the King_, and with the Hand of the King's _daughters_.

He knew his courtesies, but he knew they wouldn't help him now. Everything Tobho Mott had taught him about how to act in the presence of lords and ladies had become useless. Lord Stark had told him he had to forget everything, and that from now on he had to act like a lord himself.

But how in the Seven Hells was he supposed to know the way a lord should act? Until a day ago he was only a smith's apprentice, and now he was the King of the Seven Kingdoms' son.

_Wait a minute…_

Suddenly realization downed on him.

_That's it! I'm dreaming! _

All of that was just a weird, freaky dream. Him, the son of the king? Meh! That was folly. And he was going to wake up any minute, he was sure.

Or maybe he should just anticipate the process.

Then he pinched his arm, with all the strength he could muster.

"OUCH!"

Obviously it wasn't a dream.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and he quickly opened it, massaging his arm.

"Is everything okay, Gendry? I heard a scream."

"Yes, yes, it was… nothing…" he said, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Supper is ready, I came to fetch you."

Gendry swallowed hard.

"I don't think I'm ready, m'lord…"

"Well, I can see you bathed, and you're wearing one of the new clothes I sent you. You seem pretty ready to me," he said. Gendry swallowed again, and Lord Stark seemed to have noticed, because his smiled sympathetically. "There's no need to be nervous, son, there will be only the king, my daughters and myself. You won't meet the rest of the court or the council's members until you're ready. Now come with me, the king awaits you" he said gently.

Gendry could only take a deep breath and follow the Hand.

_Gods help me._

* * *

He kept his eyes on his plate, unsure of what to do. And he stayed like that for at least 10 minutes.

"Are you not hungry, boy?" the King asked, and Gendry started to tremble again.

"I-I am, Your Grace, it's just…"

"Father," the king said.

"Hmm… what?"

"You should call me 'father', not 'Your Grace'," the King said, with an oddly gentle softness in his voice.

"Forgive me, Your Gra-… I mean, father."

"There's nothing to forgive, son. Now eat," he commanded, and Gendry obeyed.

He tried to concentrate on his food and ignore the eyes that may be observing him, but he couldn't. Between his bites, he raised his eyes carefully and studied each one of the faces in the table.

First he took a look at the King – he still had trouble thinking about him as his father – and he seemed to be absorbed enjoying his food, not paying attention to him anymore.

Then he looked at Lord Stark, who gave him a warm smile and nodded reassuringly.

Next, he glanced at Lord Stark's eldest daughter, and the look he saw in her face made his stomach take a turn to the point of discomfort. He had seen it before. Actually, he was used to it, since that was how the highborn ladies that went to the forge with their lord fathers used to look at him – when they looked at him at all.

Lord Stark had said that he should get used to act like a lord now. But the way the Lady Sansa Stark looked at him now made him feel like a dirty lowborn again. She had seen him from afar when her father brought him to the Red Keep earlier, wearing his old and greasy clothes, his face sweaty and dirty with soot. He didn't miss the disgusted face she did then. The same one she was wearing now, even though he didn't look filthy anymore.

He looked down to his plate again, and then he almost jumped from his chair.

"ARYA!"

Gendry looked up again, and saw Lady Sansa trying to clean her face while her eyes thrown daggers to her younger sister, who was sitting right next to her. Arya was her name. She was laughing hard, almost getting breathless, and he guessed she was to blame. Lady Arya somehow had managed to thrown a spoonful of food at her sister's face.

"Father! Look what she did!" Sansa whined, outraged.

"Behave, Arya, you're not a little child anymore," he said firmly, though his tone was gentle. "Forgive her, Your Grace," he said, but the King seemed more amused than displeased.

"It's okay, Ned, that's why I like to have supper with your daughters. Supper is never a dull affair when Arya is at the table," he said, laughing wholeheartedly.

Gendry glanced at Lady Sansa, and she was red in the face, fuming while she silently finished cleaning her cheek, probably feeling even more outraged at the King's reaction.

Then his eyes traveled to Arya, who was looking down to her hands, trying to suppress a laugh, but the smirk in the corner of her lips gave her away. Then she raised her eyes slightly and glanced at Gendry, half-chuckling, and he found himself chuckling too.


	3. Not a lord

**Hello, lovelies! Before going on with the story, I'd like to point out a couple things that I totally forgot to say in the beginning.**

**First of all (and this one apply to my other stories as well), some of you might not have noticed, but I'm not a native English speaker, and I may mess up with language and idioms sometimes, especially when it comes to what's modern and what's old-fashioned. So I'd like to apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. Feel free to let me know when I make them, and I'll do my best to correct all of them. :)**

**Also, I'd like to establish that there's no Edric Storm in this AU. If he existed here, it would be very unlikely that Robert would chose to legitimize Gendry instead of legitimizing his already acknowledged bastard, as Kate Poem very validly pointed out in her review (thanks again for that!).**

**So that's it! Thanks again for all the reviews & follows & favs!**

**Now on to the chapter... :)**

* * *

Arya was sprawled on the floor, her breathing returning to its normality, her heartbeat slowing down. Syrio Forel had just finished his lesson for the day and left, and she was feeling sore all over. They had trained hard this time; not that the other times hadn't been hard, but she had gotten used to the training, and that's why Syrio decided it was time to make it harder.

His blows had become faster; his movements, more cunning. As a result, she had a new set of bruises all over her body, and they _hurt_.

She didn't complain though.

_Every hurt is a lesson, and every lesson makes you better._

But she still couldn't bring herself to get on her feet. She wanted to stay on the floor for some more time, staring at the ceiling. But then she heard footsteps. She didn't get up at once, but turned her head to the source of the sound.

_King Robert's son. What is he doing here?_

He was staring at her with a puzzled look on his face.

Then she finally got up.

"What you're doing here?" she asked plainly.

"Err… I was wandering around the castle and I... got lost."

She raised an eyebrow and then gave him an amused look.

"Why, have you seen the size of this place?" he asked, his face reddening, and she chuckled. "But I'm glad I found you," he said, and there was a strange softness in the way he looked at her.

"Why?"

"I wanted to thank you… You know, for the other night, at supper."

"Oh, that… It was nothing, really. I saw the way my sister was looking at you, and I just get annoyed when she does that. She used to do that with my friends back in Winterfell, looking at them like she was better than them," she said. _Or like they were rats that deserved to be kicked out._

That was also how her mother used to look at her brother Jon, but she didn't feel like talking to Gendry about this just yet. Jon was a bastard, just like Gendry, but he was her favorite brother nonetheless. His bastard status never meant anything to her.

"What kind of friends you had in Winterfell?"

"The butcher's son and our smith's apprentices. I used to play with wooden swords with them in the yard when Septa Mordane wasn't looking," she said.

She remembered about her friend Mycah, and how he had died because of Sansa and Joffrey.

"What kind of lady plays with wooden swords?"

"The kind that doesn't want to be a lady. I'd rather play with swords than do stupid sewing."

His eyes flickered to the wooden sword at the floor.

"You were playing now?"

"Of course I wasn't playing, I was _training_! I'm not a child anymore. I'm a woman grown!"

He laughed.

"You look like a child to me. You're what, ten?"

"I'm _three and ten_, stupid!"

"You know, you shouldn't insult people that are bigger than you," he said, getting closer and tapping her in the top of her head, like she was some puppy.

_He's petting me?_

"Then I wouldn't get to insult _anyone,_" she said, moving away. Then she looked at him curiously. As son of the king, he could have used his royal status – instead of his size – as an argument. Joffrey used to do that all the time. But for some reason Gendry didn't.

"What kind of training are you having?"

"You ask too many questions, don't you think?"

"Your father said I can ask anything I want to know."

_Seven hells, he's irritating._

"I'm sure he wasn't talking about my training," she said, giving him a side look. But she decided to answer nonetheless. "My father hired a dancing master for me."

"Dancing master? I thought you were learning sword fighting."

"I _am_ learning sword fighting. Syrio is from Braavos, and he's teaching me a Braavosi technique called the water dance."

Gendry nodded in understanding.

"Can I watch you training tomorrow?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You will distract me."

"I won't, I promise! I'll be quiet."

"No."

"Please?"

"No!"

"Gods, you're such a pain in the arse!"

"And you're stupid! Why don't you go take care of your _princely business_?"

He made a huffing noise.

"As _m'lady_ commands," he said, clearly irritated, and turned to leave.

But she decided she wasn't finished with him.

"You should know by now I'm not a lady, _m'lord_."

In the moment she let these words out, she regretted it. The way she stressed the word "m'lord" was meant to tease him, but then she realized he could take it as mocking. And by the look on his face, he certainly did.

"Do not call me _m'lord_. You can try to pretend you're not a lady, but you are. But I'm not a lord. And I doubt I will ever be."

And with that he was gone, leaving Arya staring guiltily at the door.


	4. Friends

Gendry was sitting on the grass, his back leaning against the heart-tree. It was late afternoon, and the breeze felt pleasant on his skin.

He had had a long day. After breaking his fast, Lord Stark had come to see him and introduce him to his uncle Renly.

He was shocked when he first saw Renly Baratheon, because it was like seeing himself in a mirror. If he still had doubts that he had the King's blood, they had just vanished. Renly himself was amazed at the resemblance, and he seemed so excited that he took upon himself the tasks of providing Gendry with clothes fit for a prince and teaching him how to read.

Renly had said he wanted to spend as much time with Gendry as possible, so he could teach his nephew to be more like him rather than like King Robert – he wasn't sure if it had been a joke. Actually, it didn't matter. He had liked Renly well enough, and he'd rather spend time with him than with his father. Not that the King had time for him anyway.

Renly had started teaching him the alphabet, and also showed him the letters that formed his name, _Gendry Baratheon – _it was strange having a surname now, and even stranger that this surname was _Baratheon_.

After giving him his first lesson, Renly had gone to take care of other businesses, and Gendry had decided to explore the castle. He had already been introduced to all the guards so that they wouldn't mistake him for an intruder.

The place was huge, and he was sure he was going to get lost. And he did.

But he had ended up in the Tower of the Hand and he came across Lord Stark's younger daughter. She was a feisty little thing, and the other night she had managed to make him feel comfortable at supper, unlike her sister. He thought he would get along well with her, and then he had taken the opportunity to start a conversation, but she had proved to be stubborn and quite irritating.

And, truth be told, he had liked it.

He had felt irritated when she called him m'lord in that mocking tone, but then he realized she might just be teasing him. He had called her m'lady first after all, and she hadn't liked it either. But it was late now, because he had taken his leave abruptly without looking back. He wondered if he had been too rude.

He wondered if he would have another chance to befriend Arya. He could only hope. Only the Seven knew how much he wanted a friend.

Of the few people he had met since the day he was brought to the Red Keep, Arya was the only one who seemed worth becoming friends with, even if she was younger than him. She was different from any lady he had ever met – not that he had known many, and he never talked to the ones he had met anyway. But he could see how they were like. And from what he had seen so far, she was nothing like them. He liked that in her.

He couldn't bear the idea of living in that castle without someone to talk to, without someone to share his worries and his joys – if he ever found any joy at all, that is. He had never wished so much for a friend in his life.

Everything had changed so abruptly, and he still didn't know if it had been a good thing. He didn't know if being son of the King instead of a mere smith's apprentice was a good thing.

He had never had a very good impression of the King; he knew he used to be drunk half the time, and knew he used to visit whore houses. People also used to say that he was a better king than the previous king, the mad one. At least this one was a good thing, he supposed. But he never – _never_, not even in his wildest dreams (or nightmares) _–_ had imagined that King Robert Baratheon had been the man who left his mother all by herself with a child.

_And now I have to pretend I respect this man._

"Prince Gendry?"

Gendry grimaced at the word "prince" before opening his eyes. He hadn't noticed closing them.

_Arya._

It wasn't until getting to his feet that he noticed she was carrying a sword.

"I hope you didn't come here to stab me," he said, raising an eyebrow.

She snorted.

"And have my head on a spike? You're not worth the trouble."

He chuckled.

"What about this sword?"

"It's called Needle. Father said you might like to see it. He said you used to be a smith's apprentice."

Arya handed him the sword. He took the blade, feeling the balance, and studied it carefully.

"This is a very fine blade. Is it yours?"

"Yes."

"Your father gave it to you?" he asked in disbelief.

"It wasn't him."

Gendry wanted to ask her who had been, but he wasn't sure if he should.

"It was a gift from my brother Jon," she said, as if reading his mind. "Father doesn't know it was him though, but he let me keep it anyway."

Had she just shared a secret with him? He tried to fight back a smile.

"Apart from my father, Jon was the only one who never reproached me for being… you know, different from Sansa," she said with a shrug.

"I see. That's why Lord Stark hired you a dancing master?"

"Yes. He said I should learn how to use it."

Gendry took a last look at Needle and gave it back to Arya.

"Tomorrow's lesson will be after breakfast. You can come too," she said, almost nonchalantly. Almost.

He grinned.

"Really?"

"Yes. But I'll have you know that I don't want you to cry like a little baby if my wooden sword happens to fly away from my hand and hits you in the head," she warned him with a smirk.

"I better wear my helmet then," he grinned even wider.

"Do you have armor?"

"No, only the helmet."

"What good is it to have only the helmet?"

"It was never my intention to get into battles, you know. I just felt like making myself a helmet, and I made it in the shape of a bull's head. The other apprentices used to call me bullheaded, so I thought it would be just appropriate," he said, shrugging.

"They used to call you bullheaded? I wonder why…" she said as she turned to leave.

"Are you going to insult me again?"

She turned and looked at him again.

"I can't help it. I found that I quite like to insult you."

He saw a ghost of a smile playing on her lips, and then she turned her back to him again and started making her way back to the castle.

Gendry watched her as she walked away, wondering.

And then he realized that he liked being insulted by her in return.


	5. Dancing lesson

**Hello, lovelies! I'm really sorry for the delay, but life got on the way... I wish I had more time to update this story more often!**

**Once again, thank you for all the follows & favorites and for**** all the lovely reviews**! I didn't have time to reply to them this time, but they made me very happy! Thanks for the support, guys! :D

**I'm still drowning in feels due to last night's episode. Such a heartbreaking scene between our babies... :(**

**Now, on to the next chapter!**

* * *

"He's so gross, Arya!" exclaimed Sansa during their breakfast, making Arya roll her eyes. "I'm glad the King hasn't asked us to have supper with them again, his bastard is disgusting!"

"And you're rude!"

"I'm not rude, I'm realistic. He _is_ gross. He will never be like Prince Joffrey…"

Arya snorted.

"Seven hells, I hope not! Joffrey was never a prince. _He_ is the disgusting one, and I'm glad King Robert sent him away from us."

"Hunf, it's obvious you would befriend the bastard so quickly, he's exactly the kind of people you like to be friends with, dirty and uneducated..."

"First of all, he's _not_ dirty. Second, he's receiving proper education now. And third... If I were you, I wouldn't loathe Gendry so much. You were to marry Joffrey, I wouldn't be surprised if the King asked your hand for Gendry now..."

"WHAT? DO NOT SAY THAT EVER AGAIN, NOT EVEN JOKING!"

Arya just laughed at her sister's despair.

"Besides, I bet he will end up marrying _you_ instead."

"You know very well I don't want to marry, and father knows that as well."

"But you _will_ have to marry eventually, Arya. That's how it works."

"I don't care about how it works," she said, and with that she took her leave and made her way to the Small Hall.

When she got there, Gendry was already waiting. He was sitting on a bench, staring seriously at no particular point on the floor, and he was holding his bull's head helmet. She didn't think he would actually bring it. _He really thinks he can get hurt?_

When Gendry noticed her, he rose from the bench and a wide smile spread quickly across his face. For some reason her heart skipped a bit, but she paid no mind.

"Are you really afraid of being hurt?" she asked, chuckling.

"Of course not… But you showed me your sword yesterday, so I wanted to show you my helmet," he said, grinning.

She took it in her hands, examining it curiously.

"That's really, really nice, Gendry!"

"Er… thank you..."

_Did he just blush?_

"Just don't be all full of yourself," she smirked, and then she put the helmet on her head, making Gendry laugh wholeheartedly.

"You look very intimidating, m'lady," he said between laughs, and she punched him in the arm. "Ouch!"

"Oh, did it hurt?" she asked as she took off the helmet, ready to punch him again, but then they were not alone anymore.

"So we have company today?"

Arya and Gendry turned their heads to the hall's entrance to find Syrio Forel standing there, smiling at them.

"Syrio!"

"Good morrow, Arya. Will you introduce me to your friend?"

"Syrio, this is Gendry Baratheon, King Robert's son," she said, and then turned to Gendry. "This is my dancing master, Syrio Forel."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Master Forel."

"The pleasure is all mine, Prince Gendry."

"Well, I will just stay there at the bench. I promise I will not disturb your lesson."

"You won't disturb it at all, my prince. Your presence is most welcome," Syrio said, bowing slightly to Gendry. "So Arya child, let's begin the dance?"

* * *

As soon as Syrio left, Arya put her wooden sword down and lied on the floor, breathing heavily.

"Syrio is going to kill me one of these days…" she said as she turned her head to where Gendry was sitting, but as soon as her eyes found his, she was taken aback by the astounded look on his face as he stared at her. Before she could say anything else, he stood up and walked towards her, which made her heart speed up suddenly.

He knelt at one knee by her side, the astonishment still on his face.

"That was quite impressive," he said.

"Syrio is wonderful, isn't he?"

"Yes, he's just how I expected him to be, extremely skillful and all. But I was talking about you."

"Did I impress you?" she asked, trying not to smirk. His reaction pleased her more than she thought it would.

"Yes, you did," he answered stupidly. He just stared at her and she had the impression he was going to say something else, but he didn't.

Instead, his eyes traveled to her mid-section, but he quickly averted his eyes, blushing, and in the next second he was getting up and walking back to the bench to get his helmet. When Arya looked down at herself, she realized her tunic was up a bit, exposing the flesh of her belly. She blushed furiously and fixed her tunic as she rose to a sitting position.

When he was back next to her, she avoided looking him in the eye just yet, for she knew she was still red in the face.

"I like Syrio very much. My father couldn't have chosen a better master for me, really," she said as she stood up, still not looking at him.

"I have to agree. From what I could see, the water dance suits you perfectly. I wish I had your skills," he said.

"Have you ever tried sword fighting?"

"No…"

"It's all about training, really. Why don't you try? You could practice with me!"

"Err, I don't think it's a good idea…"

"Why not? Are you afraid I'm going to beat you bloody?" she grinned.

He raised an eyebrow.

"You're half my size. It's more likely _I_ would beat you bloody, which I won't because it's not appropriate," he said, putting his hand on the top of her head and tapping.

"You know very well that sword fighting is not about size or strength. It's about skills and technique," she said matter-of-factly as she jerked her head away. "And I am _not_ half your size," she said, causing him to chuckle, but she decided to ignore that. "So, will you have any lessons of your own today?"

"Yes, I'm going to meet uncle Renly later in the afternoon."

"Can I go too? It would be only fair since you've just watched my dancing lesson," she said winking at him, and for her surprise Gendry turned bright red.

"Err… I'm not sure, I… I think you would find it rather boring," he said sheepishly and staring to the ground, which stirred her curiosity.

"Why?"

"He's just… He's just teaching me how to read," he said in a very low voice, his eyes glued to the ground.

_He's embarrassed_, Arya thought. She couldn't help, she found his embarrassment quite endearing.

"That's really nice of him, isn't it? You know, he could have hired someone instead of teaching you himself."

"Yes, he said he wanted to spend as much time with me as possible. I think he liked the idea of having a new nephew," he said, smiling shyly.

"I bet he did," Arya said softly. "I can help you. Well, if you want me to, of course. You know, with your lessons."

"I don't know..." he said a bit awkwardly. "I'm not as intelligent as you are. I'll only give you more reasons to call me stupid."

"I won't call you stupid, stupid!"

"You just did."

"That was different. I called you stupid because I like to insult you, I've already told you that," she said, half-smiling. "But that doesn't mean I think you're unintelligent. You just didn't have opportunities before, but you do now. It can be difficult in the beginning, but that's how it works. I can help you, really."

Gendry's face lit up and he was about to say something when they heard footsteps.

"Prince Gendry."

"Lord Stark," Gendry said, bowing his head.

"Father, you came late for my lesson!"

"I know, love, I was just looking for Prince Gendry."

"It's been so long since the last time you came to see my training," she complained.

"I know, Arya. I've been very busy lately, but I promise I'll come soon."

"Syrio said I'm getting really good!" she said proudly.

"From what I've just seen, I have to agree with him. Arya is very skillful with a sword. She impressed me," Gendry said, and Arya all but blushed.

"I have to see that with my own eyes then," her father said, smiling warmly at her before turning to Gendry. "King Robert is sending for you. He awaits you in the Great Hall."

Arya noticed Gendry clenching his jaw nervously.

"Thank you, Lord Stark," he said, and then he turned to Arya. "See you later then?"

"Yes," she smiled, and then he left.

"Are you going to meet him later?"

"He said Lord Renly is teaching him how to read, and I told him I could help him too. Can I go, father?"

"Of course you can, sweetheart. Just promise me you won't distract him."

"I promise," she said, grinning.

"You seem to have got on very well with him. It pleases me. He needs that."

"He's nice. And he reminds me of Jon sometimes."

"You miss Jon, don't you?"

"Yes… Will I ever see him again, father?"

"I hope so, love. I hope so…"


	6. Prisoners

**Hey, lovelies! I'm so sorry for the major delay! I really wish I could update more often, but I've been so busy lately that it's nearly impossible... But I'll try my best, I promise!**

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* * *

"Seven hells," Gendry muttered under his breath as he tossed for the hundredth time on his bed. He had gone straight to his chambers after the awkward conversation he had just had with his father.

_Father._

It was still so strange to think of King Robert as such. Everything was so new to him, and he was still struggling to take everything in when his father came up with yet another matter to trouble his poor mind even more…

_"Gendry, there's something we need to talk about."_

_"What is it?"_

_"Your betrothed."_

_"My WHAT!?"_

_"Your betrothed. You will marry Lord Eddard's daughter. We always planned to join our houses, and the girl Sansa was about to marry Joffrey before I discovered the little shit was not my blood. Now I want you to marry-"_

_"Do you want me to marry Lady Sansa?" Gendry asked, mortified._

_"No, not Sansa. She was my initial idea, I admit, but I talked to Ned and we decided Arya would be a better match for you. You two seem to be getting along well enough."_

_"But I only know her for a few days and-"_

_"So what? I barely knew the Lannister bitch before I married her, and the same happened to Ned and Lady Catelyn. Consider yourself lucky, lad."_

_"But-"_

_"No 'buts'. I'm the king, you're my son and you will do as you're told. Everything is settled. We will wait until Arya is six-and-ten, and then you will marry her. As far as I'm concerned, you'd marry her as soon as she had her first moon blood, but Ned asked me to wait a few years. He's her father after all, and my friend, so I decided to grant his wish."_

Gendry had been so shocked that he felt lost for words. He had left as soon as King Robert dismissed him, feeling a mixture of shock and rising anger inside his chest. When he entered his chambers, the only thing that had prevented him from slamming hard the wooden door was the heaviness of the damn thing.

He couldn't deny the relief that washed over him when he learned it was Arya and not Sansa he was going to marry. But still... It was horrible to have someone else deciding his future, deciding who he would have to spend the rest of his life with.

As for Arya... She was his first and only friend in that castle, and he was about to see this friendship ruined. He had a strong feeling that she wouldn't be happy with their betrothal either.

He wondered if she already knew about it.

Gendry suddenly felt like suffocating, as if the walls of his own chambers were making him feel trapped. Well, he was trapped. He was trapped in a strange new life he didn't even ask for. And, as far as he knew, he couldn't do anything about it.

He left his chambers and desperately searched for some fresh air. He wandered around the outdoors of the castle and ended up in the godswood. He decided he liked that place. It brought him peace and it was the only place in the Red Keep that didn't make him feel like a prisoner.

A prisoner. That was exactly how he felt, he realized. Now he was a prisoner of this new life, and this betrothal was only the first proof of that. He wondered what would come next.

* * *

Later in the afternoon, Gendry was getting ready for his reading lessons when there was a knock on his door. He opened it to see Renly, a wide smile on his face.

"Congratulations, nephew! I heard about your betrothal to the Stark girl. Are you happy?"

Gendry stepped aside, signaling for Renly to enter, and then closed the door.

"I don't know, uncle… It's all so soon…"

"No, it's not. Believe me, that's how things work in our world."

"_Our_ world? This is _your_ world, not mine…"

"This is your world too. You are a Baratheon now."

"I wish I wasn't..."

"You despise Lady Arya so much?"

"Despise her? No! I don't despise her at all, she's my friend. She's been my only friend since I've been here…"

"Ouch, I do not count as your friend? You hurt my feelings, nephew," Renly said playfully.

"No, I didn't mean you're not my friend, but you're also my uncle, and my family, and-"

"I know, I know what you meant, it was just a joke," Renly said, waving his hand as if dismissing the idea. "But if you are friends, why are you unhappy?"

"You know, I always wanted to have my own family… I hoped someday I would find a good girl, a girl I really loved, and have children with her. I was born in Flea Bottom, I didn't have many choices in my life, but at least I was free enough to choose the person I would want to spend my life with. And now, even this was taken from me."

Renly nodded sympathetically.

"I can see what you mean, Gendry… I understand that all of this is very new to you, but that's how it works. Marriages, in our world, mean alliances and political interests, not love. But, mind you, it _is_ possible to find love in an arranged marriage. I hear Lord Stark and his wife love each other dearly, and they barely knew each other when they wedded. And from what I've heard of your friendship with little Arya Stark, you two get along very well. This is a good sign. You can learn to love each other in time."

"Do you think so? I can barely imagine her as my wife, she's so young…"

"But she will grow up in no time. And as far as I know, you won't get married until she's six-and-ten, right? I bet she will look like a proper lady by then, and a beautiful one at that," Renly said, winking at him.

Gendry smiled weakly, thinking of what to say next, but Renly spoke again.

"But we will have plenty of time to talk about this. Now on to our lessons! You have a lot to learn today!"

* * *

Gendry was thankful when Renly finally finished his lessons for the day. He struggled to concentrate, but it had been very hard to pay attention when there was so much going on in his head. He wandered around the castle again until his legs brought him back to the godswood.

He was just approaching the heart-tree when he heard quiet sobs coming from somewhere behind another tree, that stood a little ahead, and that made him stop.

Suddenly, he remembered that Arya was supposed to be there for his reading lessons, but she hadn't come. Suddenly, something was telling him she was the one crying behind that tree.

Gendry took a deep breath and walked slowly towards the tree. He tried to be as silent as possible, but failed. He had already been noticed.

In a blink of an eye, Arya was right in front of him, facing him defiantly, and her eyes were full of tears and hate.


	7. Deal

**Surprise, surprise! Another update in less than one week! Let's hope I can keep this writing speed... o_o**

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* * *

Arya leaned back against the farthest tree in the godswood, let out shaky sigh and in the next minute she was sitting on the ground, holding her folded legs against her chest, finally releasing the tears she had been holding back since she heard from her father the words she always dreaded to hear.

He had come looking for Gendry shortly after her dancing lesson. When Gendry left, he took the opportunity to give Arya the terrible news.

_"Arya, there's something I need to talk to you about," he said softly after leading her to the bench to sit beside him. "I've found a match for you, a good one."_

_"A match? What do you mean?" she asked slowly, already knowing the answer._

_"I'm talking about your future husband. Don't worry, it won't happen until you're six-and-ten, so you will have enough time to get used to the idea. I know you don't want to marry, but you're still so young, I'm sure you'll change your mind in time."_

_"NO! I will NOT change my mind, father! Please don't do this to me!"_

_"Don't you even want to know who your betrothed is?"_

_"I don't care! I don't want to marry, I don't want to be anyone's lady! Father, please!"_

_"Arya, it's Prince Gendry. King Robert and I have talked about it and we decided he would be a good match for you. I know you're different, like your aunt Lyanna was, and I understand that now you think you'll never want to marry, but Gendry seems to like you, and you him. We think it will be good for you both."_

_"He's only my friend! I don't want to marry him, nor anyone else! I don't want to be a wife, father! Please!"_

_"Arya, you need to understand, you'll have to marry someone at some point, and I'm sure Gendry will be a good husband. Besides, he will be king someday. Arya, you will be his queen."_

_"I don't care! I'm not Sansa, she's the one who cares about these things, not me! Why didn't you choose her instead of me? She was to marry Joffrey anyway!"_

_"That would be a mistake. I love you both, and I will do everything in my power to make you both happy. Sansa despises Gendry, I can see it in the way she talks about him and in the way she looks at him. And Gendry chose you to become friends with, not her. You may not understand it now, but when you're older you will see I'm doing this for your own good. From what I've seen so far, Gendry accepts you the way you are, and I don't believe he will ever try to tame you nor forbid you to do the things you like, unlike most men would. And Robert and I always wanted to join our houses, and there's no better opportunity, Arya. I won't ask you to understand this right now, I know you won't. But I ask you to trust me. I'm doing what's best for you."_

Arya hadn't said anything in response, only looked down at her own hands, trying not to cry in front of her father. He seemed to notice it, because he just sighed, kissed her forehead and left, promising to talk to her again later.

Later in the afternoon, after spending a good amount of time struggling not to cry in front of anyone, Arya had left the Tower of the Hand and had made her way to the godswood, where she could cry in peace – until she was interrupted.

Arya heard light footsteps approaching, and when she turned to see who it was, her anger flared.

_Gendry._

He was the reason why she was crying now. If it weren't for him, she wouldn't be trapped in this damn betrothal.

Arya couldn't help herself; she got on her feet and went to stand in front of him, her anger rising and rising.

"TRAITOR!"

"Wait, what?"

"YOU'RE A TRAITOR! I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND, AND NOW YOU BETRAYED ME!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"YOU PRETENDED YOU WERE MY FRIEND, AND NOW I'LL HAVE TO MARRY YOU! _THAT'S_ WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!"

"Do you think I am happy with all of this?! I never asked for it, this is not my doing! It's not my fault!"

"Oh really?" she asked sarcastically.

"Yes, _really_! No one cared to ask my opinion! King Robert and your father decided everything. None of them bothered to ask me how I felt about it! Do you think you're the only one unhappy to see your personal life suddenly being decided by someone else? I'm not happy either!"

Arya was taken aback by his words and by the anger in his voice.

"Are you telling the truth? You don't have anything to do with this?" she asked, a bit unsure.

"I don't, I swear…" he said, softly this time.

"I'm sorry… I'm just so mad! I told my father a hundred times I didn't want to marry, and then he betrothed me to you in the first opportunity," she said, trying to dry her eyes, but the tears kept coming.

"I'm sorry if you think I'm _that_ disgusting…" he said, and Arya couldn't tell whether he was joking or not.

"I'm not mad because I'm going to marry _you_, stupid! I don't want to marry _at all_! I wish I had been born a man…"

"As far as I'm concerned, being a man is not helping at all," he said bitterly. "I'm still not deciding my own life. They say I'm going to be king someday, but that's not what I want! I never asked for this! I was happier in Flea Bottom and I didn't even know it…"

Silence fell between them. Arya stared blankly at some point on the ground. She didn't know what to say anymore. She wanted to unleash her anger on someone, and Gendry seemed to be the perfect target, but he was just as miserable as her.

Suddenly, she had an idea.

"What if we ran away?"

"Do you want to run away?" he raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure that would be the first time two people run away together because they _don't _want to marry each other…"

Arya rolled her eyes.

"We wouldn't be running away only from the betrothal. You could escape from the throne as well! Let King Robert find another heir, I'm pretty sure he has a bunch of other bastards out there."

"And what would you do then?"

"I don't know… I can try to be a knight."

Gendry burst out laughing.

"What? Stop laughing!" Arya yelled, feeling affronted.

"You can't be a knight, Arya!"

"Why not? Only because I'm a woman?"

"Certainly not because you're a woman," he said, and again she wasn't certain whether he was being serious or not, "but look at your size!"

"I'm not done growing up, you know! I bet I still can grow taller than you!"

"I bet you can!" Gendry said, laughing wholeheartedly, and soon Arya found herself laughing too. As irritating as he might be, for some reason she couldn't bring herself to stay angry with him, not now.

When the laughter died, he looked at her with a serious expression.

"You know this idea is quite insane, don't you?"

"I do…"

"And I might be even more insane for saying this, but I will think about it."

Arya's face lit up.

"Really?"

"Only the Seven know how I wish I could go back to my old life… I don't belong here, and I don't think I'll ever belong. Just give me some time to think exactly what we're going to do."

"We have three years until the wedding. It's more than enough time, I guess. I'm going to do some thinking of my own too."

"Three years… We will find a way out. I promise."


	8. Monsters

"Are we there yet?"

"For the _hundredth_ time, no."

Gendry couldn't see her, but he knew there was a hint of annoyance in her voice, and he was sure she had just rolled her eyes at his impatience.

"Where the hell are you taking me?"

"I won't tell you! I told you it's a surprise! Just shut up and follow me!"

Gendry had been nearly running for the past ten minutes. Arya had blindfolded him and was walking fast ahead of him, guiding him by the hand. She was so excited to show him whatever it was that she simply forgot to tell him that their path included stairs, and he had almost fallen several times. He had no idea where they were going, but he was having fun anyway. Things were always fun when Arya was around.

They had been betrothed for a month now. They had decided to pretend to have accepted the betrothal, but not without acting like they hadn't for a few days, so that their parents wouldn't be suspicious of their sudden change. The idea was to pretend they were perfectly fine with the betrothal so that anyone suspected their real intentions. But they would have a lot of time to think how they would execute their plan.

Arya stopped suddenly, which made him collide against her, bringing both to the ground.

"Ouch! Watch your step!"

"Oi? How am I supposed to _watch_ my step? You blindfolded me, remember?"

"Shut up and get up!" she said, after getting to her feet. "We're here."

"Where?"

He felt when she reached out to the back of his head and loosened the blindfold. They were somewhere quite dark, but since it was darker for him with the blindfold, his eyes adjusted pretty quickly. And what he saw in front of him made his jaw drop, and his heart nearly jumped from his chest.

He had always heard stories that there were dragon skulls somewhere in King's Landing, but he never thought he would ever see them with his own eyes.

"Gods be good," he gasped, greatly impressed.

"He's quite scary, isn't he?"

"I can't even imagine how scary he looked when he was alive… It's incredible!" Gendry said, studying the giant dragon skull with utter disbelief.

"I knew you would like to see it," Arya smiled, content with herself.

"How did you find this place? Where are we?"

"We're under the Red Keep. How is it that I know your own home better than you, Prince Gendry?" she asked with a teasing tone.

"Last time I checked you've been living here longer than I am, m'lady," he teased back.

"I've already told you, do not call me m'lady!"

"As m'lady commands," he said, and she shoved him with both hands, forcing him backwards.

"You know, you shouldn't strike people that are bigger than you, especially when they're your betrothed," he kept teasing her.

Arya shoved him again, this time with full strength, knocking him to the ground, but he managed to grab her wrists, yanking her down with him. His back hit the ground with a loud thud and Arya fell over him, but in a blink of an eye he managed to flip their positions, and then he was on top of her, holding both her hands with one of his while the other started tickling her sides.

Arya started squirming beneath him while trying to get free. Gendry laughed aloud, and she started kicking him, trying to hit between his legs. He managed to avoid most of her hits and kept tickling her. She kept squirming and trying to get free for a few seconds, but suddenly she stopped.

She stared up at him, breathing hard, her eyes wide, yet unreadable.

When Gendry finally realized what he was doing, he wished he could die right there. His face was mere inches from hers, and his hand was right over a soft mound that happened to be her left breast.

He panicked and nearly jumped back and away from her, getting on his feet immediately. He was glad the place was dark, because his face was burning with embarrassment. What he was thinking? She was so small that she looked much younger, and he often forgot she was already three-and-ten. She was not a fully grown woman, but she was definitely not a little child either – the feeling of her small breast against his palm made him realize that.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that," he said quickly, waiting for some sort of reaction from her, but it never came.

An awkward silence fell between them, until he spoke again.

"Arya, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be playing with you like this. I never meant to-"

"Shut up," she said, standing up suddenly.

"But-"

"Come on, I still have eighteen dragon skulls to show you," she said, walking away, completely ignoring what had just happened.

Gendry just stared at her wordlessly, until she stopped and turned around.

"Are you going to stand there all day?"

He sighed and followed her, wishing he could guess what was going on inside her head.

* * *

It had been a long day, but Gendry still found some energy to practice his handwriting before going to sleep. He was sitting at the table that stood in the corner of his bedchamber, trying to make his handwriting as tidy as Renly's, but failing miserably.

It didn't take long for him to give up, and he started writing random words in his own messy style. First he tried to write the names of the Targaryen dragons. He wasn't sure about the right spelling, but he was going to ask Renly or Arya about it later.

Arya had taught him a lot about the Targaryen dragons, as well as Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. She didn't hide her fascination for Rhaenys and Visenya, and, despite the darkness, he could see her eyes shining when she told him how they had ridden Meraxes and Vhagar side by side with Aegon and Balerion during the War of Conquest.

Gendry had been impressed with all the knowledge Arya possessed, and tried to learn from her as much as he could. She knew so many different things – things he couldn't even start to imagine – that he found himself wanting to learn everything too. At some point he had even felt ashamed for being so uneducated, but he managed to shove this feeling away quickly. He was having a nice time with her and he didn't want to spoil it.

Arya's knowledge had impressed him, but what really kept him guessing was her reaction towards the awkward incident that had happened between them. He was sure that any other lady would have blushed madly and ran away scandalized, or even slapped him. But Arya never acted like a normal lady, and her reaction had been quite unique.

She had ignored the incident completely, pretending that nothing had happened the whole time. Maybe he had given too much thought to the incident, but he wished he had apologized again when they were back at the Tower of the Hand. But he hadn't. She probably had her reasons to act that way, and he thought better not to bring the subject again.

Then he remembered that he would have to start planning their escape at some point. They had talked about it a couple times in the last weeks, but he hadn't come up with anything yet. At least Arya hadn't either, so he hadn't felt so bad about it.

He had suggested waiting a few months before starting to plan everything properly, so that he would have more time to learn how things worked around there, because right now he had no clue of what their real chances were. If he was being given the chance to learn everything he needed to know to be a king someday, he could very well take advantage of that knowledge. Arya decided it wouldn't be a problem; they could wait until he felt he was ready.

It was odd to think that he wanted to escape from their betrothal when the only moments he felt truly happy and carefree were the moments he shared with her. He had grown very fond of her over the last month, but not exactly in the way he was supposed to. Arya was like the little sister he never had. He was sure King Robert and Lord Stark wouldn't be pleased…

Gendry yawned and dropped the quill on the table, feeling tired. He spared a last look at the paper he had been absentmindedly writing on for the last fifteen minutes, and what he saw brought a smile to his face.

He didn't even know when he had stopped writing random words and started writing Arya's name.

* * *

**Hey, lovelies! I'm so sorry I couldn't reply to the reviews this time, but I loved each one of them! They always make my day, thank you so much! :D**

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I swear I tried to be less cheesy in the end, but I failed. Oh well... :P**


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